


I May Never Come Down to Earth Again

by 15Acesplz



Series: Courfius Week 2018 [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 01:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14631414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/15Acesplz/pseuds/15Acesplz
Summary: “King Gillenormand is having a ball,” Jean Prouvaire announced, sliding into the seat next to Feuilly.





	I May Never Come Down to Earth Again

“King Gillenormand is having a ball,” Jean Prouvaire announced, sliding into the seat next to Feuilly.

“What, were you invited?” Courfeyrac asked, smirking. Everyone knew how Gillenormand felt about commoners, and his events were always exclusive to nobility.

“No, I heard it from Montparnasse. According to him, the king intends to find his grandson a spouse among the attendants.”

“Ever wonder what those balls must be like?” Courfeyrac mused.

“Insufferably fancy, I’d expect,” Feuilly said. “Silk and velvet as far as the eye can see.”

Grantaire snorted. “I doubt it’s so splendid beyond a first glance. Drunk rich folks are no more dignified than any drunk man here.”

Courfeyrac didn’t pay much attention to their words. He was still curious. “You know, I think I’ll go.”

Grantaire barked out a laugh.

“Very funny, Courfeyrac,” said Feuilly.

“I’m not joking.”

They all stared at him. “You haven’t an invitation,” Prouvaire said. “You wouldn’t make it past the front gate.”

Courfeyrac waved his hand. “I’ll find a way in.”

“And once in, then what?” Feuilly sounded skeptical. “You’re bound to get noticed. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you’re dressed in commoner’s clothes.”

“I’ll find something to wear.” Courfeyrac didn’t know exactly how he would pull it off, but he could figure it out in time.

“Courfeyrac at the palace,” Grantaire scoffed. “Next you’ll say intend to woo the prince.”

“Why, I’m sure I could manage to seduce someone,” Courfeyrac said, grinning. “Who wouldn’t want to kiss my lovely lips?”

The other three immediately raised their hands. Courfeyrac gave them a doleful look.

“You wound me, friends. Just wait and see, I will go to the ball and I will get a kiss while I’m there.”

“If you manage it,” Grantaire said, shaking his head, “drinks are on me.”

\- - - - -

Courfeyrac’s first attempt to secure a formal suit did not go as well as he would have hoped. He enlisted Musichetta to help him – she was a much better tailor than he. Courfeyrac got ahold of the fabric and Musichetta provided the pattern for a fashionable cut. Their sewing was good and the resulting ensemble was nicer than anything else Courfeyrac owned. But he could see it still didn’t compare to what passed for finery at the palace. Perhaps he should have bought better materials. Still, he did not give up.

He next turned to Bahorel, who he knew owned a few extravagant things. Bahorel immediately pointed out what he had failed to realize – Courfeyrac would swim in his clothing.

His last idea was his most exciting. He would take all his savings, double them in a game of cards, and buy something suitable. In his eagerness he somehow forgot that he was awful at cards. He went back home with nothing.

Before he could make another plan, the night of the ball arrived. Courfeyrac had to resign himself to staying home. It had been a silly idea anyway, he supposed. As the sun set he seated himself beneath the gnarled old oak beyond his back garden and watched the sky change. He suddenly felt a tickling sensation below his nose. He sneezed.

His eyes grew heavy and before they closed he spotted a flash of some strange glimmer. _Faeries…?_ That was his last vague thought before he succumbed to sleep.

\- - - - -

When Courfeyrac awoke the moon and stars had appeared. He pushed himself upright. That was when he noticed what he was wearing.

The costume shimmered impossibly in the dark night. It was comprised of a crisp white shirt, white stockings, handsome shoes, matching waistcoat and breeches of turquoise with gold embellishments, and a heavy dark green velvet cloak. A cocked hat was on his head and tied up against his face was a mask. A smile spread across his face. He had better get going or he would be more than fashionably late.

\- - - - -

The ballroom was even grander than Courfeyrac had anticipated. It was a long room of pristine white marble, with the exception of the high, arched ceiling, which was painted gold. Immense windows and three veiled balconies made up most of the outer wall. The chandeliers lighting the room were a marvel, laden with more glistening diamonds than Courfeyrac could count. There were at least a hundred people there, and they all looked as if they were competing to be the most lavishly dressed person in attendance. The whole scene reeked of opulence; Feuilly would have hated it. Courfeyrac grinned at the thought.

He edged his way past the other attendees, standing in clusters and chattering to their companions. He overheard snippets of their conversations as he passed.

“Lord Martins’ son, that unscrupulous boy, did you hear that he –”

“I can’t say I approve of their already having a child, but –”

“– Duchess Clara’s corset, wouldn’t you believe it –”

Courfeyrac thought that Grantaire would have probably gotten a kick out of the frivolous gossip. He could tell him about it tomorrow.

Finally he reached a spot where he had room to move his elbows and could still see everything. He scanned the room again, looking more closely at individual people. Hopefully someone would catch his eye, and he could get started with the seduction.

He passed over several people under thirty before his eyes landed on a tall boy with stiff posture and an uncomfortable look on his handsome face. As he took in the details – dark hair, elaborate white costume adorned with gold, King Gillenormand standing beside him – he realized the boy could only be Prince Marius. Courfeyrac hadn’t expected him to be so attractive.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had crossed to near where the king and the prince were standing. The prince looked over at him. Courfeyrac stopped a couple yards away and flashed him a grin. He smiled tentatively back.

King Gillenormand was introducing his grandson to person after person. He wasn’t holding him there but the boy still looked rooted to his spot. He said little and didn’t seem to be listening too closely either. He nodded whenever Gillenormand shot him a severe look, but other than that he was distracted, his gaze flicking about. Whenever he glanced at Courfeyrac, Courfeyrac smiled. The fifth time he even gave a little wave.

Before long the musical quartet in the corner started up with a waltz. Courfeyrac watched as pairs began to dance, fascinated. It wasn’t like any dancing he had ever seen or done. He didn’t even notice someone had approached him until they cleared their throat awkwardly.

It was the prince. He bowed to Courfeyrac. “May I have this dance?”

Courfeyrac smiled and nodded. They walked out onto the ballroom floor. Courfeyrac let his dance partner take the lead.

It didn’t take him long to get used to the repetitive motion, and he could focus on the prince. He was gazing at Courfeyrac intently, only breaking eye contact to blink. Courfeyrac laughed quietly. “Hello,” he said.

The prince’s answer was barely more than a murmur. “Hello.”

“I am Courfeyrac.”

“Call me Marius.”

Courfeyrac grinned and winked. It made Marius go pink. “I will.”

There was a pause in their conversation and a dip in the music, and Marius spun him. When they were face to face again Marius said, “You’re the most interesting person here.” The blush on his face deepened from pink to glowing red. “I mean, no one else is dressed quite like you. Why do you wear a mask?”

“Let’s finish this dance, then I’ll tell you.”

Marius nodded, and they kept dancing. When the song ended, they walked out to the nearest balcony. It overlooked a garden dominated by pink roses. “So,” Marius said. He still had a hand on Courfeyrac’s forearm. Courfeyrac hoped he would keep it there. “The mask?”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Courfeyrac said, dropping his voice conspiratorially. “I’m not meant to be here. I wasn’t invited.”

Marius blinked, then furrowed his brow. “How did you know about the ball, then?”

“Word got out in town.”

His eyes widened. “You’re from the town. You’re –”

“– not of noble blood,” Courfeyrac finished, smiling. “No. I really am not meant to be here.”

Marius ducked his head and mumbled something Courfeyrac didn’t catch.

“What was that?”

“I said,” – he was pink to the tips of his ears – “I think you’re meant to be here. If you hadn’t come I wouldn’t have met you.” Then he stepped in and kissed Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac was so absorbed in the kiss that he didn’t notice the chiming of the clock tower, or the glimmering flash like the one earlier that evening. What he did notice, mere moments after, was the cry of outrage from the doorway back into the ballroom.

“Marius!”

They jerked apart. King Gillenormand was standing there, and he looked livid. That was when Courfeyrac realized his grand costume – the hat, the cape, the mask, everything – was gone, and he was in his rough-hewn everyday clothes again.

“What are you doing with this commoner? No, don’t answer that! I saw what you were doing! You are taking after your mother in the worst possible way, boy! I won’t have it! And you,” he barked at Courfeyrac, “get out of here at once, you reprobate, before I have you tossed out!”

Courfeyrac had no choice but to flee. He was almost through the crowd when he felt a tug on his arm. It was Marius, red-faced and winded. “I will see you again soon.” It sounded like a promise. Courfeyrac nodded, and made his hasty exit.

\- - - - -

Walking home in the cool night air, Courfeyrac’s racing mind soon stilled. It had been an amazing night – the most glamourous adventure he’d ever had. If he had nothing else, he had that drink Grantaire had promised, and a story to tell along with it. But the night didn’t feel like an ending. Remember Marius’s eyes on him, and their kiss, and those words – _“I will see you again soon”_ – it felt as if something had just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> What happens next?? Will they become secret lovers? Will they run away together? Will they get married and be royal husbands? Yes I know they talked for like five minutes tops but it’s a fairy tale okay. It be like that sometimes. Anyway I don’t know what happens next; whatever you like, I suppose. Also I know the outfits and dance style are not historically compatible but I really don’t care, I’m just trying to live my best life here. I didn’t want Courfeyrac to have to try to fake a court dance. What else? Oh, the title is from Rodger and Hammerstein’s Cinderella, which I listened to on loop while writing this. 'Me, Who Am I' is a very fitting song for Pontmercy, I think. The whole soundtrack is great! Y'all should listen to it.


End file.
